Presidents’ Day
So, through some bureaucratic quirk, I got Presidents’ Day off this year. Me. A guy who firmly believes that all presidents throughout history, with the possible exception of JFK, are insider con men merely playing roles while doing the bidding of a shady global elite. How do I celebrate THAT? I figured I’d start by doing something presidential, so I sent out a mean tweet and then spent the rest of the day falling up stairs.

Love American Style
I didn’t find it right away, but someone sent me a Valentine’s Day card that was delivered to the newsroom last week. The fact that I got a card means I’m one of the cool kids, if I remember my grade school rules of popularity right. I just wish the sender had included her name so I could respond with one of those Lifesaver books and maybe scribble her initials on my paper bag book cover. Or his initials. I really have no idea.

Be Mine, dawg
So, after writing the above rant, I got all nostalgic for those candy hearts that used to be all the rage on Valentine’s Day. Be Mine, Kiss Me, True Love, Say Yes and all that charming stuff. But have you seen those candy hearts THESE days? It’s all Tweet Me, Text Me, a lot of stuff I can’t write in a family newspaper and a whole bunch of abbreviations I don’t understand because I’m old. Now we know why our culture is falling apart. The candy hearts have gone feral!

Words of love and affirmation, probably
So, I’ve been getting a lot of voicemails lately in which no sound of any kind is heard. The message might be a minute long, but playing that message only produces silence. If you’ve left me a message lately that I haven’t returned, by all means call me again. Otherwise, I’m just going to go ahead and assume that in your message you professed profound love for me and read a short haiku celebrating my manliness. You people say the sweetest things.

No confidence
So, a city union has issued a no-confidence vote in the Lewiston mayor. I don’t know what this means politically, but the very concept of a no-confidence vote appeals to me and I plan to adopt this tactic in my personal life at once. Wife asks me to eat a vegetable with my steak? I vote no confidence in the woman and that gross green stuff goes away. Editor demanding to know why all my expense reimbursement receipts come from the local tavern? No confidence, brah. Just give me the money. I can hardly wait until I get pulled over by a cop again. The way I see it, my no-confidence vote is a guaranteed get-out-of-jail card no matter how serious the infraction. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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